His Problem
by Kipli
Summary: For LJ's BadWrongScrubs: Prompt CoxTurk, Stress Relief: Turk is having some issues downtown.


_**Title:**_ His Problem  
_**For:**_ LJ's **badwrongscrubs** - Prompt: Cox/Turk, Stress Relief  
_**Author:**_ Kipli  
_**Email:**_Kipli at livejournal dot com  
_**Series:**_ Scrubs  
_**Pairing:**_ Perry/Turk, which of course Perk, and mention/fantasy of Carla/Turk  
_**Rating:**_ NC-17  
_**Word Count:**_ 2,000  
_**Warning:**_ Masturbation, kinda, sorta  
_**Summary:**_ Turk is having some issues _downtown_.  
_**Disclaimer:**_ Not my 'verse, I just play with them.  
_**Notes:**_ Holy shit. This is pretty much crack!fic. This pairing is so hard to manage, and I tried my best, I really did. hehehe Not really what I initially had in mind for them, less pushing and shoving, but still I enjoyed. Though I must really stop with the masturbation fics... A take off of s01e07 - 'My Super Ego'.

------

His Problem

------

I can't believe Doctor Cox. I mean, why would he think that I would**ever** listen to his advice? He likes **Carla**. And so by default everything he says is simply an elaborate scheme to replace me.

But dude! His advice to calm my nerves was to... _take care_ of myself? That is just **so** wrong on **so** many damn levels. Because A - I don't really do that. I have Carla. She's fantastic. She's amazing. Why the hell would I want to go and whack one off without her? Why have a cold ham sandwich when I know I have filet mignon cookin' at home tonight? With multiple tasty servings? Besides, I've never been big on the whole 'lovin' myself' routine. That's usually JD's gig. And no. I don't know this from _actual_ experience, but you live with a guy as long as I have, and you know things, so just shut up. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why he locks himself in his room every night about nine.

Not to mention that it's also so very wrong because B - I don't ever **ever** want to associate jerking off with Doctor Cox. I mean... dude! Doctor Cox?! I know he's divorced and lonely and all but I just, I don't want to know!

I flip onto my back on the bed in the on call room. Has he jerked off on this bed? How about that bed over there? The break room? The bathrooms? Patient's rooms? Where hasn't he _taken care_ of himself? I'd really like to know this. So I can hide in that particular two foot square corner of the hospital.

He's pretty high strung and, well, crazy for someone that likes to jerk off. You'd think it would mellow a guy out. Especially if he's giving it as advice to **me** to calm my nerves.

If he's jerked off in here, I wonder, would he lock the door? Would he care? Cause he **is** Doctor Cox. If someone accidentally interrupted him, they'd flee or they'd get their heads ripped off. Both would keep them from **ever** speaking of the event to anyone. And if he jerks off so much, maybe it would be exciting to leave the door unlocked...

I strum my fingers against my stomach.

No. Just no. Don't give him the satisfaction.

But does he really have to ever know? I could have gone for like a walk or something to calm myself down. And anyway there's no way I'm relaxed enough to take the nap I had been planning on before the surgery. I can't bale on it like last time. I have to be ready, calm, focused.

Just pretend it's Carla's hand. Sliding under my scrubs. Wrapping fingers around my half-hard cock. Thick, rough fingers. Awkward fingers. Fuck this isn't going to work! I can't... do this! It's just too weird.

Maybe I should sit up? Stand? How does JD do this every night?

I shift my legs up some, bending my knees, and try thrusting into my hand instead. But it doesn't work. It still feels like **my** hand. Which is just...

I jump as the door to the on call room jerks open and--fuck!--Doctor Cox walks in, quickly slamming the door after him. I nearly fall off the bed as I hop upright and struggle to get my hand out from underneath my pants.

Cox tilts his head as he spots me.

Okay. Dude. Be a man. Don't blush. You were just, uh, sleeping. With your hand down your pants. Right.

A wide, bastardly grin forms on Cox's face, a damned amused twinkle in his eyes. "Rookie mistake there, Gandhi. The first course in Masturbation 101 is to **always** lock the door before engaging in any kind of **frisky** shenanigans."

"I--I wasn't--I totally wasn't--I was... sleeping... and I um--I was sleeping, and so... yeah."

So smooth.

He raises both his eyebrows at me. "Whatever you say there, big guy. But from the looks of it, you only just started, so I'll just **lock** this for you so you can continue on your merry way to palmsdale."

He turns to leave. He was actually fairly kind. For him. I mean, he just caught me trying to jerk off. And he didn't even really gloat or anything.

Before I can think better of it, I shout at him, "Doctor Cox, wait!"

Cox tosses a glance back over his shoulder at me. "You're not going to hit on me now, are you Radar?"

Okay. So now I'm blushing. But fuck it. This isn't happening without some more advice. "I, um, I can't... I can't get it to, um--I can't get it to work."

He blinks before turning around and crossing his arms, staring down at me. "You... you are a **man**, correct?"

"Well, I mean, I--I don't do this, a lot, and it's just not--"

"You don't **masturbate**?"

"No! I have Carla!"

"And what does that have to do with anything?"

"She--She takes care of me. I mean, I'm with her. I'm satisfied. I don't need any more... stimulation. She's amazing."

"Although I'm sure that she is, you do know that she can't hear you, and I won't tell her that you like to jerk one off in the shower, I really won't."

"No! I'm serious! I don't... **do** this a lot."

Cox blinks at me again. Why is this so damn hard to understand?! I mean, not all guys are like him. Lonely and pathetic and desperate. Some guys have women. He's had a wife! He should know this!

"I bet you didn't, er, masturbate as often when you were with Jordan!"

"Every morning. Twice in the evening maybe. Depending what was on the tv and if I could get in a second _loooong_ shower."

"Dude!"

"What? Young guys, horny as hell, that's what we do. **You** my crazy little bald-headed friend are the weird one. I bet Abigale spends plenty of time in his showers, not just doing his hair, and you know it. As disturbing an image as that may **be**."

Well... JD does take long showers. And probably has Cox beat on how many times a day he spends doing **quality** time with himself. Maybe I am the odd one...

I whine and collapse back onto the bed. "It just... I know it's **me** and so it's not... **interesting**. No boobies. No foreplay. I need my foreplay!"

He sighs and steps toward me. I turn my head to see he's sat down on the bed across from mine. He narrows his eyes on me. "How did you ever survive being single?"

"Sports and Brady Bunch marathons?"

He snorts in disbelief.

I clear my throat self-consciously at the look he gives me.

"And... I was never really single for very long. Some of us are just **stellar** with the ladies."

"Or will nail anything that moves because their horny as hell."

"That too."

He sighs again and scrubs a hand over his face. "Listen. Just... think of Halle Berry or something. Think of Carla. Think of your little miss Clarabelle. Whatever. Build a fantasy. Whack off to that. The end."

"It's still my hand. It's still me."

"Well, that would be the **definition** of masturbation, yes."

"Just. Never mind. Forget it. Maybe I'll go for a walk or something."

I move to sit up again but instantly there's a hand on my chest, pushing me back down. I blink up at Cox hovering over me.

"Is this how you are with **every**thing in your life? Just give up? You know you can't freeze in surgery again. Doctor Wen will chew your ass out. And no walk will calm down **your** nerves."

"But I just, I can't do it! I'm just fucking weird, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I can't jack off. I can't. Now get the hell off me or--"

I cut myself off with a yelp as Cox jerks both my pants and boxers down over my cock, and before I can even contemplate socking him in the face for assault, he grabs my right hand and wraps it back around my cock.

"Or what, Gandhi? Now just, fucking take this lesson, learn something from it, and become a much more happier, independent man, for fuck's sake."

His hand over mine squeezes mine tightly around my cock while pulling both hands up the length of it.

Oh shit! This. This is weird. Wrong. Crazy. But I'm actually... getting hard. Real hard. Not just partially like before. Which makes this even more wrong.

He glares down at me as I stare up wide-eyed and gaping. "No goddamned gay stuff, Gandhi. Close your eyes. Fantasies. Remember? Close those eyes. Now!"

I jump some at the sudden boom in his voice. And disturbingly my cock jumps as well. Jesus Christ... I close my eyes. Fantasy. Right. Um. Carla. Lets go with Carla.

"Who are you fucking?"

"Ca--Carla," I manage to squeak.

"So damn predictable and unimaginative, but it'll work. Now don't think of her jerking you off. You're still a novice. It'll just remind you that your fingers are the ones actually working at your cock. Think of her sucking you off. Think of fucking her. Imagine the sight of her, imagine the sound of her, imagine her reactions to your movements. Can you do that or is that too much of a stretch for your little tiny brain?"

I grunt and ignore the snarl at the end, instead working to visualize her. Carla. Carla straddling my hips. Straddling me on this bed. As I thrust up into her. Oh yeah. That would be fantastic. Her boobs would bounce with each thrust. Her hair would fall over her face. She'd give these amazing little moans every time I filled her.

"Aaaah there we go, Gandhi, there we go. Now speed up the pace. Imagine her reaction to your growing needs. Faster. Stroke faster. And squeeze."

Cox squeezes roughly around my hand and around my cock. I can't help a groan as I start to thrust up into our hands. I'm hard. Really hard. Fucking hard. Damn, this is nice...

Carla would grip my shoulders. Ride my cock. Meet my thrusts. Deliciously bounce above me. Hair nearly brushing my face. She'd be so wet. Moaning and swearing at me in spanish. Oh god, I love it when she swears at me in spanish. Because I know she's about to come.

"_Ooooh fuck..._" I whimper, working fast, hard, rough on my cock. Thrusting up. Into my hand. Faster. Faster. Squeeze. Ooooooh god yes! I come with a sharp roll of my hips, pleasure washing over me, as my hand squeezes out the last of it and slows to a stop.

Wow. No wonder JD does this all the time. Not that it beats the real thing but wow. And did I just get off with the help of _Doctor Cox_?!

My eyes flash open but Cox is no longer sitting on the edge of my bed. Hell, no longer even in the room.

Did I daydream all that? Because if I daydreamed all that then I need some **serious** counseling.

But I do feel better now. Real good, actually.

Mmm, daydream or not, I think I owe Cox a thank you. And by thank you, I mean never ever speaking of this to anyone. Ever. Because I doubt he'd want this spread around any more than I would. Somehow I don't think he does anyone any favors around here unless he has to.

It only takes me a few minutes to come completely back to myself and clean up. I can't help wishing it had **really** just been amazing hot sex with Carla, but I suppose this was a fine enough substitute.

Huh. Craziness of the whole situation aside, I guess Doctor Cox isn't all bad.

I take a deep breath as I reach for the door and head out of the on call room...

...only to find Doctor Cox and Doctor Wen and a bunch of other staff cheering on my success.

I really hate Doctor Cox.

END


End file.
